


bucky barnes' sweet tooth

by mazzapoppy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Brownies, Christmas Party, Cooking Lessons, F/M, Mistletoe, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, it's kinda au bc aou hasn't happened yet and everyone stayed in DC yay, this is... the first thing I've ever posted on here so please go easy on me haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazzapoppy/pseuds/mazzapoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you’ve been taught that the only way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. you quickly learn the way to bucky barnes’ heart is through his sweet tooth</p>
<p>or </p>
<p>you make “christmas” brownies for Sam’s Christmas party and maybe you kiss Bucky under the mistletoe</p>
            </blockquote>





	bucky barnes' sweet tooth

**Author's Note:**

> so a few things to know about this work: sam has told reader about steve and natasha and the winter soldier, but she isn’t aware of who the winter soldier really is. this is also an alternate universe where sam is capable of hosting the annual work christmas party at his place ok thanks

You were very, _very_ bad at planning accordingly, when it came to baking that was.

 

Baking was a beloved past time of yours that you discovered a few years ago when you found that living alone (though, you had a cat, so technically you weren’t so alone) meant extended amounts of quiet time. There was nothing wrong with quiet time, of course. You loved it, really, you did… but some nights could get so boring.

 

So you’d whip out the eggs, the flour, the sugar, and whatever else you could toss into the oven with making it explode, and you’d make masterpieces of desserts that you sliced up and gave out to people at work. Sam, being one of those people at the other end of your delicious baking, decided that he’d ask you to make something for the upcoming Christmas party at work, and who were you to refuse?

 

The Christmas parties for your job were somewhat small and intimate, but well-loved, so your boss didn’t have the gall to get rid of such a tradition. Granted, you’d made sugar cookies with the old receptionist once, but they were all her recipe and, if you were honest, she actually did the cookie while you sat on her couch, entranced by the Christmas movies she put on. She didn’t mind, she was a bit of a Virgo anyway, always wanting to do everything herself, and probably didn’t trust you with cooking in the first place.

 

This year was the first year you'd be whipping up your own creation for all your co-workers (and a few of Sam’s close friends), so you had to do it justice. And good thing Sam was having it at his home, because you knew your way around well enough to find the nearest exit in case your brownies gave everyone food poisoning.

 

Appearing at Sam’s door with a basket full of extra ingredients, you were met with a smiling Sam, a set of reindeer horns on his head and a bright red ugly sweater on. “Glad you could make it, (Name).” You smile brightly at him and step inside, enjoying the warmth of Sam’s house much more than the biting DC cold. He takes your basket and coat and trades you back the basket after hanging your coat away, “You can go ahead into the kitchen. It’s just Addie and Caroline in there.” Addie and Caroline were probably the sweetest women at work, with Addie being the little old lady a few more months closer to retirement, and Caroline, the new (and slightly awkward, but you let her get away with it for being so kind) receptionist. 

 

You nodded at Sam and moved into the kitchen, being greeted with the delicious smell of cakes, cookies and more. You grew even more nervous. “(Name)! It’s good to see you. I was starting to think we’d have to send out a search party.” Addie tells you before taking you into a gentle hug, and you’re reminded of the warmth of a mother as the smell of sweet heavenly cake fills your nostrils. “I couldn’t leave y’all hanging, could I?” You smile back, as she lets you go with a chuckle. Carlene moves in next, opting for a gentle and quick hug with a pat on the back. “What are you planning to make?” 

 

You slowly pull out the recipe, biting your lip, “Very special Christmas brownies. You think they’ll like ‘em?” Addie reads over the list quickly before grinning, “It’ll be a hit. No one will be able to keep their hands off them.” “Addie, we should be going. Sam still needs help with the tinsel on the fireplace.” Addie makes an “o” with her mouth before the both of them bid you goodbye, zipping out of the door to help Sam. Turning back to the vast kitchen, you sigh, silently readying yourself to cook your ass off.

 

-

 

You almost squeal in childlike excitement as the brownies sit, perfectly cooked, a clean toothpick in your hand tells you just as much. You pick up your knife and begin to gently slice them, making sure they’re all set to be decorated, and take a seat at your stool as you wait for them to cool. You can hardly help yourself as you look the brownies over, your stomach grumbling as the sound of your co-workers filing in makes your stomach flip a little more. _They’re fine, you'll be fine, it’ll be fine._

 

A knock on the kitchen door knocks you out of your reverie and you stiffen when the door is opened, hardly prepared for who walks through the door. 

 

A man (who looked a helluva lot like someone you’d seen before) stands, broad, tall, and very pouty, dressed in a bright red and green sweater with the words “Happy Ho- Ho- Holidays!” written on the front. His nose turned up as soon as he laid eyes on you, and he flinched as Sam ushered him in with a loud voice. He couldn’t look more homicidal even if he tried.

 

“(Name), this is James, James, this is (Name). She’s making brownies and I thought you’d like to help her.” Sam explains, nodding in your direction with his ever so present jolly smile. You can tell by the look in his eyes that James doesn’t want to help, and you can tell by the look in Sam’s eyes that he only put him back here for one reason, and it wasn’t to help you. Still, you manage a gentle smile and James doesn’t return it, “Hi, James. I was just waiting for the brownies to cool so I could decorate.” 

 

Sam pats James’ shoulder when he says nothing, and zooms out of the room to escape the awkward atmosphere. In the split second the door is swung open, you can see the one and only Captain America peeking into the kitchen with a worried expression, and a familiar short redhead beside him. Natasha, as Sam had mentioned her name to you before, was downing red and green jello shots one after the other. You too could use one right about now.

 

James doesn’t move from his spot, planted firmly in front of the kitchen door, so you shuffle in your seat and hope the time passes by quickly. Your eyes stay glued to the granite countertop as you try your best to avoid his penetrating gaze, all but screaming “I feel very uncomfortable around you” right in his face. After a good five minutes (and you’d know because you were counting the seconds in your head), James moves to sit a stool down from you, the stool making a creaking noise under the large man’s weight. 

 

You notice he’s wearing black leather gloves, but other than the slightly thin sweater he wears, he isn’t really looking very cold. You take it as a personal preference and brush it off when your (very shoddy) cooking instincts kick in, telling you to check you brownies. Your sudden movement for the pan of brownies shocks James so much that he hops out of his chair and stumbles to the door of the kitchen, eyes narrowed and trained on you. You, wide-eyed and innocently hovering your hand over the side of the warm baking pan, watch with bewilderment. It’s silent for a few moments as he assesses you, almost as if he believes you meant to _hurt_ him. Compared to him, you’d barely be able to cause a bruise on his arm before he had you knocked out cold on the pristine kitchen floor.

 

“James… are you alright?” You ask in your softest, most tentative voice. The sound of his name makes his expression soften and he looks lost, like he wasn’t fully aware of what had gotten into him. Little did you know, James was more shocked he hadn’t picked up the butter knife you sliced the brownies with and held it to your throat, instead of simply moving away from you. For once, he believed the BS Steve told him about him getting better. Just this _once._ “Fine.” He whispers, in just a simple monotone voice that seems to satiate you for the time being, because your expression softens almost completely. You smile shyly and tug the brownies toward you, making sure not to burn yourself on the warm edges. “Wanna help me decorate these?”

 

James, finally putting it together that you are no threat, moves over to your side and looks over the decorations you’ve set out: green sprinkles, a bowl of lime green icing, and red M&M’s. “We’re gonna decorate them like Christmas trees! Do you wanna work the icing, the sprinkles, or the M&M’s?” You ask, back to your slightly bubbly self. While James does not reciprocate your enthusiasm, he leans over and takes the bowl of icing, as you open up the icing bag and instruct him to spoon it all in. He starts off messy, getting some on your fingers and some on the counter, but you smile anyway, telling him it’s all the more fun to eat it off. He even sneaks a bit onto his gloved finger and licks it off when you're busying yourself with the M&M’s. 

 

“Alright, now we have to put the sprinkles on. I’ll do the honors.” You take the shaker and gently spritz little green sprinkles over the zig-zag icing trail, making sure it looks just right. James gently speaks up, pointing to the M&M’s. “Can I put those on?” You beam at him, hoping the relieved expression on your face goes undetected by James, before nodding toward them. “Knock yourself out, dude. You gotta take your gloves off to do it, though.” 

 

James stiffens when you say that, and you quickly turn to him to make sure you haven’t offended him. He looks… almost terrified as he glances down at his left hand, “Do I have to?” You frown at him in confusion, “Are your hands that cold?” 

 

His hands clench and unclench, his eyes darting from you to the M&M’s a few times before he thinks _fuck it_ and rips them both off. You nearly choke on your the icing in your mouth at the sight of the shining, metal fingers that grasp the first small candy, pressing it surprisingly gently into the icing.You watch, mouth agape for a while, slowly putting two and two together. You’d heard Sam tell you about the man with the metal arm, the one who’d nearly killed both him and Captain America. Being a close friend of Sam’s, he didn’t find it a bad idea to tell you why he had been absent from work for so long, and you weren’t really gonna buy the “my grandmother is sick” thing either. You just never thought that, fast forward a few months later, you’d be standing right in front of said Winter Soldier, and renowned dead man.

 

You slowly recognized his face as the man from the Captain America tribute at the Smithsonian, James Buchanan Barnes. You had James Buchanan Barnes, the _fucking_ Winter Soldier, in the kitchen sticking candy into brownies for your co-workers.

 

You knew that the irrational part of you, the part begging you to run out of the room like a chicken, was being just that, _irrational,_ but obviously Captain America (and more familiarly, Sam) wouldn’t bring him here if he wasn’t stable enough, right? And Sam wouldn’t put him back here with you if he thought you’d be in danger. You just… had to keep saying that to yourself.

 

James was either ignoring your wide eyes or he was taking his task far too seriously. Either way, you felt like a fish, gaping at him in amazed wonder. After a moment, you shut your mouth and felt your cheeks warm like you’d been standing in front of the oven again. “U-uh… good. They’re good, Buck- James. They look good.” You tell him (you at least attempt to), and arrange them with shaky hands on the metal sheet. Just in time, you feel James tug your arm gently, almost as if he hadn’t at all. You look up at him, and his eyes are soft, scared even. Scared? Why would he be scared of someone almost half his size? But you look again and you can tell he isn’t scared, he’s _worried,_ worried it isn’t his place to talk. “Can I try one?” 

 

You’re surprised that he doesn’t mention you seeing his metal hand, or that you’ve put together who he is. He simply looks longingly at one of the brownies. “Of course you can.” You hold the pan up to him, and he nearly eats the first piece in one go, his mouth covered in bits of brownie and traces of the green ice cream. Surprising yourself, you giggle, and set the tray down to pull the sleeve of your sweater up and around his lips to wipe his mouth clean, almost out of instinct. 

 

He watches you curiously, sheepishly, and mumbles through a mouthful, “They’re delicious.” “Want another?” You offer, glancing over the tray of nearly twenty-five (scratch that, twenty-four) brownies that nearly call out to him in a heavenly chocolatey chorus. He opens his mouth to reply when you see Steve open the door, eyes falling on you and Bucky as his once stiff shoulders quickly relax. “Hey… everything all right in here?” Sam, Natasha, Addie, and Caroline shuffle in shortly after, rounding up the other desserts to take outside. 

 

You nod quickly, and Bucky does too, finally swallowing down all the brownie. Natasha (never the discreet one) smirks at the both of you, dropping her left eyelid down in a wink before disappearing through the door behind Steve. “You guys done with those?” Bucky casts a forlorn look at one of the other brownies, mumbling an affirmative to Sam. With a quick, polite smile, Sam finally disappears from the kitchen, just as Bucky wolfs down another brownie.

 

-

 

It’s late into the party, and after finally parting from Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha, you find that Bucky’s pretty much guarded the tray of brownies, eating more than he really should, but you find his enthusiasm over your cooking adorable, and at least someone was enjoying them. 

You had snuck one when his back was turned in fear he might eat them all before the night ended, and you were right to do so. The party was starting to die down, everyone’s stomachs filled with sweets and other things, and the sound of gentle Christmas music in the background lulls you gently. You don’t even notice you’d been standing in the very archway Sam had been nearly planted in all night (you’d speak to him about those lip gloss stains on his neck later), until Natasha leans against the wall in front of you, smirking cooly with that same sneaky look you’d grown to slowly hate. “Having fun?”

 

You chuckle into your cup of punch, watching her hiccup a bit (no doubt the after effects of all the alcohol she’d managed to find), “Not as much as you, apparently. You’ve consumed all the alcohol within a five mile radius.” Her eyes roll playfully, but the slightly glazed look in her eyes confirms your accusation, “I’ve got a depleting supply at home. A girl’s gotta drink… but I didn’t come here to talk about my alcohol problem.” “Oh, didn’t you?” You raise your eyebrows at her. “No, I think I came to talk to you about Barnes. I saw you both making eyes at each other in that kitchen, you know.” 

 

You give her an exasperated look, “You and Sam just won’t let that go, will you? He’s been saying that all night. James and I were… w-we were just _looking_ at each other!” Natasha is not so easily convinced, but she feigns surrender, “Maybe I’m just seeing things.” You nod quickly, hoping she’ll drop it, “…but I guarantee that if Sam shoves Bucky over here right now, you won’t protest.” As soon as she had said that, she was sprinting away from you, and sure enough, Sam was shoving Bucky under the archway as you straightened up. “Oh look, what a coincidence.” Sam points to the dangling mistletoe above your heads, and James looks as lost and innocent as ever. You suddenly feel you and James have more in common than you originally thought.

 

“Guess ya gotta kiss now.” A co-worker of yours, Bennett, smiles at you as he drinks some hot cocoa, only chuckling when you glare at him. It seems a few more people have seen you two, and now they’re cheering for you both to kiss, making James’ cheeks burn apple red. The poor guy can’t even look you in the eyes.

 

You can see the nervous panic in his eyes and you know there isn’t much you can do. You know he’s uncomfortable and really, you are too, but your co-workers are cheering you on and it won’t end until they get what they want, so, reluctantly, you press your hands on James’ shoulder and press up on your tip toes, placing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back with an equally shy expression. His cheeks have somehow gotten redder as the others clap around you cheekily. 

 

Once they’ve dispersed, you manage to look back to James to apologize, “I’m sorry… I hope they didn’t make you too embarrassed… they can be really cheesy.” At first, he doesn’t look at you at all, his feet scuffing the ground awkwardly in the silence, but then he starts to smile just a little bit and you swear you’ve never seen something cuter, as he tucks some of his long hair behind his pink ears, “It’s fine. It was you or Sam, and he seems to get around.” You couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from your mouth right after.

 


End file.
